


it’s a long shot just to beat these odds

by we_are_the_same



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician), zayn malik - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Anxiety, Awkward Dates, Bisexual Liam Payne, Cooking, Dinner Dates AU, Famous Liam Payne, First Dates, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, No Angst, No Smut, Non-Famous Zayn Malik, POV Zayn Malik, Pining, Popstar Liam Payne, Reality TV, Strangers to Lovers, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, famous/non-famous, kitchen disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25524751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same
Summary: Zayn: how many years in prison would I get for murdering a popstar???He scrapes the plates clean, resists the urge to kick the trash can, his breathing still feeling shallow and high in his chest. He wants a cigarette. And a cuddle from Louis. But a text is the most he can realistically ask for now, and luckily Louis doesn’t leave him hanging.Louis: ?????Okay, so it isn’tthathelpful, but Zayn knows his anxiety well enough that just distracting his mind is usually enough to keep from having an actual attack. It doesn’t matter that the subject he’s discussing is the one thing his brain is actually panicking about, just trying to formulate words into a text is helping.Zayn: I served him raw chicken. RAW. And he was kind enough to want to try and eat it too. I could have killed him!!!That would’ve made headlines for sure.FORMER BOYBANDER GETS POISONED ON FIRST DATE, more on the ten p.m. news.Louis: well that’s one way of making sure he’s not going to go on any of the other dates. Bit drastic though mate.
Relationships: Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 45
Kudos: 165
Collections: Prompt 4.4: Shot





	it’s a long shot just to beat these odds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarah_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_writes/gifts).



> This fic is written for the incredible [Sarah](https://lightwoodsmagic.tumblr.com/) who brightens up my life and without whom I would not be as confident as I am today in writing stories. I love you 3000 and then some.
> 
> Thank you to the One Direction boys, for absolutely killing my brain last Thursday and reviving my soul at the same time. I love you guys so much, and last Thursday proved that this fandom is truly a place that has no equal. Can't wait to see what you'll do in the next decade.
> 
> This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge for the prompt "shot". To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/shot), and to see all fics written as part of the challenge (including years 1-3), [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works). You can also find the masterpost for this year’s challenge [here](https://wordplayfics.tumblr.com/post/622306139518926848/wordplay-2020-every-week-for-five-weeks-a-prompt).

This is all Louis’ fault and Zayn is never going to forgive him.

“Come on,” he’d said. “This will be fun,” he’d said. 

Zayn’s kitchen is a disaster, and it’s no match for his mental state. He’s running out of time, ready for the night to end before it’s even started. He’s going to _kill_ Louis.

*

It was all Louis’ idea and Zayn should have known, really, that it was going to end in disaster. Sure, on occasion Louis’ plans were brilliant and went off without a hitch, but the majority of the time someone ended up desperate and or hurt. Most of the time that someone was Zayn.

So when Louis had come over one night, brandishing his phone like a weapon, Zayn was on high alert. 

“They’re recording a new season of that show you like! They’re looking for applicants!”

That show was Dinner Dates, something Zayn would never admit to watching because it wasn’t exactly cool, but it beat a lot of other things on the telly around dinner time, and he liked seeing people’s houses, liked watching them cook and get ready for a date. The concept was interesting; one person reading through five menus before picking out three of them, the chosen three people behind the menus then each cooking that person a three course meal on successive nights, after which one of them would be picked as the winner and taken out for a nice meal. Zayn particularly liked the little updates at the end, and though most of the second dates never led to anything more, the romantic in him rejoiced at the few that had actually turned the show into a relationship.

He was soppy, sue him.

Luckily, or unluckily in this case, Louis was just as soppy as him, and as his self appointed roommate (they didn’t actually live together but you’d hardly know that for as much as Louis was around) he could be found on Zayn’s couch at 6 p.m. sharp, watching the latest installment of the show.

Zayn loved the show. That didn’t mean he wanted to be _on it_.

*

As with most things, Louis was the instigator, but terrible at the follow through. He had hyped up Zayn enough that in a moment of what he could only describe as complete and utter recklessness, he had actually signed up for the show, not even too bothered about the fact that even though it was _his_ idea, Louis had not done the same thing. He’d had a point anyway, saying that he was already seeing someone. Saying that this was their only chance to be on TV, and be a part of their favorite show. It had made sense.

Not that Zayn was expecting to be picked. With him being exclusively interested in men, and the probably thousands of applications that they received every season, there was about a 0,001% chance that he would ever actually be chosen. 

Months went by. He had almost forgotten about his brief lapse in judgment, when he received the phone call during work.

They asked him to do a screen test, and send in the menu he would like to cook for his date.

Zayn had been too polite to say _fuck that_ , even when his fingers were trembling and his heart was pounding in his throat long after he’d disconnected the call, but that was okay, he could email them later, say he’d changed his mind. 

Except then he’d made the mistake of telling Louis. And he should have known that Louis would never let him give up, and maybe he _did_ , maybe that’s why he told him because there was a part of Zayn that would never go willingly outside of his comfort zone, even when he knew that there were so many amazing things to experience if he just put himself out there some of the time.

So instead of calling the network and bowing out, he had come up with a menu that played to his strengths, dishes that he had grown up with or learned to cook from a young age on. Things that his friends would ask for if they came over for dinner. 

On the morning of the screentest he’d still been bricking it, would have gladly turned off his alarm and slept in, but of course, his best friend in the entire world had known this would happen, had practically invited himself over last night. Which truly wasn’t that different from any other night, but this time he had _stayed_ over, had fallen asleep on Zayn’s couch, and Zayn had to admire his dedication because that couch was anything but comfortable.

So with Louis all but manhandling him into the studio, Zayn had had no choice but to go through with the screentest. Part of him had considered bombing it on purpose, but he knew that was his fear talking, his anxiety over putting himself out there, for people to judge and scrutinize him. He’d tried to put that out of his mind and do a good job, and though he knew he was far from flawless, something about his awkwardness must have been charming, or just made for good television, because the next thing he knew they were telling him to clear his calendar for the week of the 23rd of October.

Zayn was going to be on a television show. He was going to cook three dishes and humiliate himself on national television. Great.

*

It’s currently five forty and the mystery man who has picked his menu is going to be here in twenty minutes. The girl who tells Zayn this looks apologetic, and Zayn falters, nearly cuts his fingers when he tries slicing the strawberries for the dessert. 

He is not ready. He is _so_ not ready, but there are cameras aimed at his face and he doesn’t want to cry on tv. So he just swallows, does the little scene into the camera that they have rehearsed - just him telling them that he’s prepared as much as he can, that he’ll do the rest when his date arrives, and that he’s going to get changed - before heading up the stairs, trying to tune out the giant camera that follows him. 

It’s weird, getting changed in front of a camera, and Zayn finds that his fingers are trembling when he buttons up his shirt, even more so when he tries to reshape his hair, that had lost almost all of its volume due to the stress and heat in the kitchen.

He should feel okay about this. He knows the menu like the back of his hand, had practised it a few times, despite the fact that it all consisted of dishes he knew and loved. He knew exactly how long everything would take, what amount of ingredients to use. But he hadn’t accounted for the crew having to reshoot certain scenes, and as such he was behind on where he’d like to be. 

He goes through it in his head as he brushes his teeth. The starter is a chicken skewer with some mint yoghurt sauce and a small bit of rice on the side; the rice is done, and he only needs to skewer the chicken and grill it. That should take him maybe ten, fifteen minutes.

The main is a butter chicken with naan bread and sliced cucumbers. He hadn't been sure whether incorporating chicken into his starter and main wasn't too much, but it was his favorite food, and he wanted to stay true to who he was. And whoever was going to end up coming over tonight had picked his menu, so Zayn's assuming he'll like it just fine.

Though, there have been some episodes…

“What is going through your head right now Zayn?” the girl behind the cameraman prompts, and Zayn tunes back in to the present as he rinses his mouth.

“I'm nervous,” he says, glad that his voice still sounds steady. “I'm just hoping that whoever shows up is someone that I can have a good time with, and that the food turns out decent.” He’d put enough time and effort into it, starting with marinating the butter chicken the day before, letting it soak up all the flavours. It’s been bubbling on the stove for most of the afternoon, so he only needs to warm it up once his guest arrives.

For dessert he'd opted for a chocolate lava cake with raspberry coulis, homemade vanilla bean ice cream, and some fresh strawberries. It was a mix of cuisines, maybe, but they were all Zayn's favorite foods, and he figured that if he was going to end up embarrassing himself on camera he might as well get some tasty food out of it.

“And what kind of man are you hoping walks through the door?” she asks, checking her watch. “Ten minutes, by the way. You might want to finish up so we have time to film some shots of you coming down the stairs.”

Zayn nods, taking a deep breath. He almost forgets to answer her question, just as he forgets how to walk, holding himself anything but naturally as he walks down the stairs the first time, which causes him to have to redo it, then again just so they can film from a different angle.

They end up filming in his living room, where he is made to almost flatten himself against the small bit of wall next to his back door because the colour of the wallpaper makes for a pleasing aesthetic with the colour of his skin. They don't quite phrase it like that, but Zayn knows it's what they mean.

“Your ideal man?” the girl prompts, and Zayn takes another deep breath. Thinks about it. 

“Someone sweet. That can make me laugh. Someone who cares as much about family as I do.” Even as he says it he can tell that they’re looking for something else, a soundbite on something more superficial, so they could contrast what he said he wanted with the person that was about to ring his doorbell. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, sure that if he does he’ll just end up having to reshoot the clip, unless they try to make him into the asshole of the episode. “I suppose, physically, I’m quite into brunets. Brown eyes. Nice muscles. Not like, bodybuilders, or anything, but I do love a good bicep to rest my head on at the end of the day.” He finishes lamely. The girl smiles, gives him a covert thumbs up, before speaking into her headpiece for a moment, the camera panning away from Zayn and giving him a moment to himself.

He wishes he had time for a cigarette. Or to call Louis and yell at him for ever bullying him into thinking this was a good idea.

He loves Louis. Honestly. And Zayn knows that Louis isn’t actually to blame for this. He could have said no, and eventually Louis would have listened. He’d have pouted and sent him puppy dog eyes and threatened to quit on their friendship about half a dozen times, but he’d have relented and cuddled Zayn and shared a spliff with him, and it would’ve been fine.

God, how much Zayn wouldn’t give to be in his backyard with a spliff right now. Or just, _something_ to take the edge off. He’s so nervous that right now he doubts he’ll be able to stomach a single bite. 

“Five minutes, Zayn. We’re going to set up a camera right by the door. Just pretend it isn’t there, please, unless we ask you a direct question, you can just act like it’s a normal blind date.”

Zayn wants to tell them that he’s never been on a blind date in his life. Instead he pours himself a glass of wine, hoping that a few sips will take care of the giant lump in his throat.

*

Any hope he had of calming his racing heart is shot to hell the moment the doorbell rings, and it’s not until he opens the door - his legs shaking so badly that he can barely manage to keep his knees from buckling - that he understands the secretive smiles the girl had kept sharing with the man behind the camera.

Because the person standing in front of him fits Zayn’s type to a T. 

He’s also _famous_. 

The kind of famous where Zayn used to have posters of him on his walls when he was younger. Where he’d reblogged so many photos on his Tumblr, and had taken his sisters to concerts because even as a teenager liking boybands wasn’t exactly cool. Not if you were a boy. 

It doesn’t help that the person standing in front of him is _literally_ one of the reasons that Zayn realised he was gay. He bites down on his tongue hard enough to not blurt that out, because _hello you were my sexual awakening nice to meet you I’m Zayn_ wasn’t going to make Liam Payne want to have dinner with him.

Holy shit he’s having dinner with Liam Payne. 

“Hi,” Liam Payne says, and Zayn panics because he’s gaped at him for a good minute or so, and he honestly had been raised better than that. “Are you okay?” There’s amusement in his voice, and Zayn blushes, tempted to look anywhere but at the absolute vision in front of him.

“I’m Zayn,” he says, and thrusts his hand out, nearly knocking Liam off balance. Great. This is going splendidly. “Sorry,” he’s not sure what he’s apologizing for, but he figures his apology could be viewed as a blanket statement. “I just didn’t expect-”

It’s not like he hadn’t heard. Even if he wasn’t in the fandom anymore - not that there really was a fandom, after the band had broken up, but even when he had followed their solo careers, he was more of a casual fan than anything these days - he had seen the Tumblr buzz the day the news had dropped. Only a few short weeks ago, Liam Payne had come out as bisexual. 

And fuck, he looks good. The way he smiles, right now, is making Zayn even more weak in the knees than he had already been. “I take it you recognize me then,” he says, and the fact that it sounds bashful rather than conceited has Zayn melting just a little bit more. 

“My sisters,” he manages. “Big fans.” Wali and Safaa would forgive him the little white lie, he hoped. 

Liam nods, smiles. “Wicked.” He says, seemingly not really knowing what to do with himself, and it’s the way that he shifts his weight from one foot to the other that makes Zayn realise that they’re still standing in the doorway, and he should probably stop being a complete idiot and invite Liam in. So he does, and he only has to hold onto the wall once as he leads him into his living room. He considers it a win.

HIs hands still shake terribly when he pours Liam a glass of wine, but Liam is sweet enough not to comment on it. He doesn’t comment on much, actually, and the awkward silence between them stretches until Zayn nearly jumps when Liam actually scrapes his throat.

“So,” he says, and Zayn looks at him, knows he’s making a terrible impression, but desperate for Liam to continue that sentence. Thankfully, after a slight (lightyears’ long) pause, Liam does. “On a scale of 1 to 10, just how awkward is this date in comparison to the others you’ve been on?”

Zayn blinks, but there’s something about the casual way in which Liam addresses the awkwardness that has some of the tension in his body melt away. It’s probably years of media training that has left him with the ability to make anyone feel at ease, but Zayn is extremely thankful for it. “Well,” he says, wondering if he should try to attempt a joke or just stick with a basic, boring answer. “It wasn’t a date, but, the first time my best friend attempted to cook for me, he managed to set himself on fire. So, this probably rates a little bit higher than that.” 

Liam’s chuckle makes Zayn nervous again, but this time it’s for a completely different reason.

*

It’s a stretch to say that conversation flows easily after that, but at least they aren’t sitting in complete silence anymore. Still, Zayn is grateful when he has an excuse to duck into the kitchen to get started on the first course.

HIs hands are trembling as he attempts to skewer the chicken, and when he’s asked to give his first impression of Liam, he can’t be blamed for not being all there. “Um,” he frowns, heating up oil in a pan, only barely managing not to splash any of it onto himself as he puts the skewers in. “A surprise, definitely. Which showed, but he couldn’t have been nicer about the fact that I recognized him. He’s um, well, he’s obviously quite good looking.” It’s an understatement if he’s ever heard one, but the girl seems satisfied, tells him they’ll be right back to film more, but that they’re going to need a soundbite from Liam too.

And God. Zayn doesn’t even want to think about what Liam might possibly be saying about him right now. He grimaces at his food, manages something that’s meant to be a nod, and texts Louis the moment he’s left alone.

_Zayn: it’s Liam Payne!! Liam Payne is in my house right now, SOS SOS SOS_

He heats up the rice, tries to make these cute little dome shapes, but his fingers are trembling so badly that it comes out looking more like a misshapen blob. 

_Louis: that fit boybander you used to crush on? Nice one mate!!_

Zayn frowns at his phone, absently turning the skewers in the pan. 

_Zayn: yes that one. THIS IS A DISASTER_

He’s only half aware of the fact that the cameras have returned, knows that he probably shouldn’t be texting, but they’re not calling him on it, just filming him. Luckily Louis is quick with his replies, and his response makes Zayn smile despite the situation.

_Louis: it’s gonna be okay! Just breathe, babes. Remember what therapy taught you x_

Louis is right. Zayn’s anxiety hasn’t gotten the best of him in a long while now, and it’s all due to the coping skills he’s learned in therapy. Deep breathing, which he tries as he slips his phone back in his pocket. Challenging irrational thoughts. What’s truly the worst that can happen? 

That he makes a complete fool of himself in front of Liam Payne. And a couple of million viewers. 

He’s not quite sure how that’s an irrational thought, but at the same time he’s well aware of the fact that even if he does there’s nothing he can change about that. And it’s not like he’ll lose his job or his friends over this, even if he does make a terrible impression. And as much as he wants to make a good impression on Liam, he’s probably met so many people in his life that Zayn will barely register as a blip on the radar.

Somehow that’s not an awfully comforting thought, but at the same time it does relax him a little bit. Enough to turn off the heat on the stove, plate up the skewers, and get ready to face going back in there. He tries to tell himself that whatever happens, it can only get better. Even if the conversation halts, they’ll have something to eat, and if there’s anything Zayn’s confident in, it’s his cooking.

*

Liam smiles at Zayn when he comes back into the dining room, and Zayn wonders briefly what he’d told the camera crew, if his first impression had truly been as terrible as it had been in his head. There’s nothing hesitant in Liam’s smile, but then, with all these years of living in the spotlight, he could’ve just gotten incredibly good at keeping a straight face. 

He also compliments the way the food looks, which is nothing short of charming, and Zayn manages to actually smile back this time. “I hope you’ll enjoy it,” he says softly, and Liam’s answering smile makes Zayn glad that he’s sitting down, because it still makes his legs sort of feel like jelly. 

“So,” he manages, feeling a little bit braver now, “what made you decide to choose my menu?”

As he says it, he watches Liam cut into the chicken skewer, and suddenly he can feel all the blood drain from his face. Because what was supposed to be beautifully white and tender meat looks _raw_. Not undercooked. Not slightly pink. _Raw_.

“Oh no.” 

Liam looks at him curiously, his fork halfway to his mouth, and Zayn is _mortified_ as he looks away from his face and down at the food in front of him. He watches Liam’s eyebrows raise in slow motion, watches as he puts down the fork, his expression changing rapidly until it finally settles on something apologetic. “I-” he starts, and Zayn wants to amend his earlier irrational thoughts, because there is no universe in which he had expected this, so apparently his anxiety is slacking. 

“I’m so sorry!” He blurts out, not even thinking twice as he reaches out, grabbing the plates and making what feels like a mad dash into the kitchen, barely even hearing Liam’s tentative _“I could eat around it?”._

The cameras follow him, and it’s not like he hadn’t expected them to, but he just desperately needs a moment alone, needs to catch his breath and stop the tears that he can feel brimming in his eyes. “Sorry,” he croaks out, “can I just-” and thankfully the girl takes pity on him, gives him an encouraging little wink before directing the crew back towards the dining room.

Where Liam is still sitting. At least, Zayn thinks he might be. He could’ve just as easily left. Zayn wouldn’t blame him. Not when he’d just served him raw chicken.

_Zayn: how many years in prison would I get for murdering a popstar???_

He scrapes the plates clean, resists the urge to kick the trash can, his breathing still feeling shallow and high in his chest. He wants a cigarette. And a cuddle from Louis. But a text is the most he can realistically ask for now, and luckily Louis doesn’t leave him hanging.

_Louis: ?????_

Okay, so it isn’t _that_ helpful, but Zayn knows his anxiety well enough that just distracting his mind is usually enough to keep from having an actual attack. It doesn’t matter that the subject he’s discussing is the one thing his brain is actually panicking about, just trying to formulate words into a text is helping.

_Zayn: I served him raw chicken. RAW. And he was kind enough to want to try and eat it too. I could have killed him!!!_

That would’ve made headlines for sure. _FORMER BOYBANDER GETS POISONED ON FIRST DATE_ , more on the ten p.m. news. 

_Louis: well that’s one way of making sure he’s not going to go on any of the other dates. Bit drastic though mate._

Zayn knows what Louis is doing. He knows that he’s just trying to make him laugh, to take some of the edge off. He hates that it’s sort of working. That his breathing is just a little bit less laboured and he doesn’t quite feel so close to crying anymore. 

_Zayn: I’m currently hiding in the kitchen. How do I face him after this??? What do I say???_

_Louis: sorry is a pretty solid bet. Mishaps happen babes. The fact that he wanted to try and eat it is pretty sweet. I reckon he could be a bit keen on you!_

Zayn truly, honestly doubts that, but it’s sweet of Louis to pretend that this whole evening hasn’t already been completely ruined. No, he is sure that Liam is only still here because he’s polite, or because he’s the star of this TV show’s episode and he’s contractually bound to stay and eat Zayn’s shitty food. But Louis is right. The least Zayn can do is head back in there and apologize.

*

He must look extremely sheepish or upset still, because the moment he heads back into the dining room, Liam turns to him with a soft concerned expression. “Are you alright?”

It is so utterly lovely that for a moment all Zayn can think to do is nod, and sink into his chair. “Yeah,” he mutters, his head hidden in his hands so the camera can’t catch the expression on his face, though he soon sighs and straightens up. “Just, embarrassed, man. I figured, even if the conversation was awkward, I’d at least be able to count on the food turning out ok.”

Liam gives him a soft smile. “It was only the first course,” he encourages, and Zayn is reminded of just why he had liked Liam all those years ago. Sure, he had been fit even back then, but he’d also been dead nice, just a genuinely good guy. Even if some interviewers were absolute shit, dragging him and the band through the mud, Liam had always taken the high road. “There’s two more to go. From what I remember, you had some delicious things on your menu.”

Zayn takes a deep breath. Then another. Then a sip of wine. “Yeah,” he says, rubbing his hands on his jeans, more so because of the physical sensation than because he’s got sweaty hands. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I’ve been a total jackass. I can’t believe you had to see me like that.” 

He watches as Liam glances at the camera, then towards him. “It’s alright,” he says softly, and Zayn can tell that what he’s about to say isn’t necessarily meant to be overheard. “I’m no stranger to anxiety. It’s completely fine.”

He appreciates it so much. That despite the cameras trained on them, despite the fact that this is being aired to millions of viewers and might generate a catchy headline in the gossip mags, Liam is admitting to something very private in order to make Zayn feel better. He feels the inane urge to reach out and squeeze Liam’s wrist. He doesn’t, of course, but he does smile at him. “Thank you.” He says, in the same soft voice that Liam had used. “That means a lot.” 

Something about knowing that Liam doesn’t think he’s made a fool of himself makes it easier to face up to the rest of the evening. Even if Zayn’s confidence in his food has taken a hit, he feels strengthened by the knowledge that Liam isn’t going to make fun of him, or think him weak for having such a strong emotional response. 

He’s probably still not going to get picked for a second date, but Zayn can’t really blame Liam for that.

*

“I should get back to the kitchen,” he says softly, after they’ve finished their wine, that Zayn had painstakingly picked out in the supermarket, the perfect pairing to his chicken skewers that are now in the trash. In hindsight he could have probably put them back in the pan, or at least let Liam have some of the rice, because he is probably hungry, but he hadn’t really been thinking much in the heat of the moment. “It’s probably not good etiquette to let you starve,” the joke feels lame, coming out of his mouth, but Liam still laughs, and Zayn thinks that even if Liam is just being polite, it might still be one of the sweeter experiences in his life.

Liam is laughing at something he said. It’s every teenage dream come true, and as much as Zayn wants to roll his eyes at himself (he’s just a guy, regardless of the amount of awards he’d won as part of the band, he’s not that different from Zayn at all) he is fully aware of just how insane this is. It’s truly a once in a lifetime experience, no matter how it ends up. How many people can say that they’ve been on a blind dinner date with Liam Payne? 

Well. Three, by the end of this week, but Zayn doesn’t want to think about that. He never has done well with competition, not because he can’t stand losing but because he tends to get in his head, comparing himself on every level, and that never leads to happy thoughts. It’s not even that he’s down on himself, he knows he’s not perfect but that he’s also got a lot of good things going for him. It’s just - he likes to be judged, not compared. 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t,” Liam replies, giving Zayn a cheeky sort of grin. “Should I come with you, just to keep an eye on the chicken? There is chicken in the main, isn’t there, or have I just admitted to not quite remembering the menu you sent in?”

Even if Liam had forgotten, it’s not like Zayn blames him. This whole experience is a bit of a whirlwind, and he’s not the one that’s had to sort through five different menus in order to decide on three possible dates. He’d understand if the details got a bit muddled. “Nah, you’re right. It’s a butter chicken. But it’s been on the stove for the past couple of hours, so unless I’ve completely fucked everything up, I don’t think you’re in danger of being poisoned a second time.” 

As he’s saying it, he’s moving towards the hallway, and it’s only when he’s in the doorway that he realizes. “But, um, you could come into the kitchen if you want?” It might just be that Liam’s been instructed to come in, that the camera crew wants a few good shots of them together rather than just switch up the focus, but spending more time with Liam? Zayn’s never going to say no to that.

Of course, having Liam in his kitchen is a bit of a distraction.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” he apologizes, feeling the warmth of a blush blossom on his face. “I’m not the most organised cook, and I usually leave the clean up for later.” It’s not that terrible, it’s not like there’s sauce on his ceiling (which Louis had managed more than once) or two weeks’ worth of dishes in the sink (Niall). It’s just, standing here, seeing it like Liam would, Zayn is maybe a bit more critical than usual.

Even when there’s no need, apparently, because Liam just smiles, leaning a hip against the counter. “If this is your definition of a mess, I’m afraid to show you what my kitchen looks like when I’m making dinner.” He pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up, revealing tattoos that Zayn had seen develop on his skin throughout his career. It’s different seeing it in real life. Zayn sort of wants to trace them, even if he knows from his own experience with getting tattooed that there will be no raised skin on his arms, no way to actually feel them beneath his fingertips. 

It’s hard not to get sidetracked, when Liam is such a presence in his kitchen. It’s not that he takes up all that much space - even with Zayn’s kitchen not being the biggest, it’s comfortable enough to move around one another in - but he’s just so _there_ , his character larger than life even when he’s got none of the attitude that Zayn has heard can be a thing with celebrities. If Zayn hadn’t grown up watching him, listening to his songs, seeing him featured on billboards and in magazines, Liam could be just another guy. Someone Zayn might’ve gone to school with, been mates with. He’s almost comfortable, to be around.

“I bet your kitchen is huge,” he says, and it’s mostly just to say something, to fill the silence as he puts the butter chicken back on a low heat, takes the sliced cucumbers from the fridge and checks on the dough. It’s doubled in size since he’s set it aside to rise, and the pressure in his chest eases somewhat. “Perks of being a celebrity, I guess.” 

Liam chuckles. “One of the few, yeah,” he says, and it comes across playful, not at all conceited. Zayn likes that about him. That he hasn’t let fame go to his head. His teen self had decided to stan a good boy. “I don’t cook as much as I’d like to, though. My job still takes me away from home a lot these days. And some nights I don’t get in until ten thirty at night. So it’s nice to have a home cooked meal tonight.” 

Zayn looks at him, rolling out the dough. “You can help, if you want? If you miss cooking.” It’s meant as a joke, he’s not actually going to put Liam to work, but as soon as he says it, Liam’s eyes light up, and Zayn’s sort of weak for the way he beams at him.

“Can I?”

He swallows, finds that stringing words together to make a sentence is suddenly very difficult, but he manages a nod, even when he’s not too sure what Liam can actually help with. He just needs to roll out the naan and cook them, everything else is pretty much done, and he can finish up everything for the dessert later. But Liam seems so eager to help that Zayn doesn’t have the heart to change his mind, so he just gestures towards the dough, takes out the knife and roller that he’d intended on using. “If you could cut this into eight pieces for me, and roll them out, I could go and check on the ice cream.” It doesn’t really need checking anymore, but Liam seems so happy that he’s been given a task that Zayn checks _and_ double checks his ice cream anyway.

It looks good. Tastes good too, and he’s so relieved. He might just redeem himself yet. 

Liam looks good too, rolling out the dough with this adorably focused expression on his face. His muscles shift underneath the cuffs of his shirt as he pushes the dough out into circles, his tongue poking out between his teeth, and Zayn dreads having to see his own enamored expression on television someday. But he can’t help it. Liam is fit, and nice, and in this moment, completely adorable. 

He shakes his head in a feeble attempt to get himself out of his head, shifts to lean against the counter as he watches Liam carefully roll out all the pieces of dough. “So,” he starts, not completely sure what he’s about to say, but hoping he won’t end up making a fool of himself by the end of it. “You say you’re away from home a lot, still? Is there anything in particular you’re working on?” 

Liam looks at him, pensively. “Nothing I can tell you about, I’m afraid.” He sounds truly apologetic, and Zayn wonders just how much of his semi-private life is wrapped up in NDA’s, or in keeping things close to his chest because you never knew who to trust. It’s sort of sad, come to think about it. “Sorry.”

Zayn shakes his head, takes a skillet to pour some oil into. “No, that’s - I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, obviously, because I’m not a popstar, but. I get that you can’t just share anything with anyone. Even if I told you I’d never tell anyone, it’s not like my word counts for much when there’s a bunch of cameras in our face.” He smiles at Liam, something soft and hopefully reassuring. By the way Liam smiles back at him Zayn thinks it might have worked.

“Thanks,” he says, watching as Zayn places the first of the uncooked naan into the hot pan. “So, tell me about you then. You knew who I was. Were you ever into the stuff we did, or did you just humor your sisters?”

Zayn can _feel_ the tips of his ears burn. He’s not about to admit to Liam that he used to run a blog about him and his bandmates, that his room had had more than a couple of posters and that he’d even bought the perfume just because the boys had looked great on the packaging. “Uh,” he says, acutely aware of the camera shifting, probably catching the exact expression he has at this moment. “I mean. I wasn’t like, obsessed with you guys or anything, but, the music was pretty cool.” He glances up at Liam, can tell by the expression on his face that he’s fooling exactly nobody in this room right now. “I might’ve been a bit more than a casual fan.” He admits, because there’s clearly no point in lying. “Is that weird?”

Liam smiles. “Nah,” he says, and Zayn is relieved to hear that he sounds sincere. “The whole point of boybands is to make fans think that they have a chance of dating us, so, you’re just the one for who it actually came true.” His smile turns into a grin, and Zayn loves that he does that, that he just pokes fun at his fame, at the boyband stigma. “It’d be weird if you still had posters of us above your bed, but honestly, mostly because looking back, my hair was absolutely terrible.”

A small snort escapes Zayn’s mouth. “First off, your Bieber hair was _iconic_. Second of all, the posters aren’t above my bed. They’re at the shrine I put up the day you guys broke up. _Obviously_.”

Liam looks horrified for about 0.1 second, before catching onto the fact that Zayn’s made a joke, and then he lets out this big bellowing laugh that feels like it’s giving far too much credit to Zayn’s stupid joke, but Zayn can’t help himself, smiles back at Liam, his tongue pressed to the back of his teeth. “Seriously though,” he continues, feeling this small tickle in his stomach that’s only half to do with the fact that he’s getting hungry. “No posters. Not anymore. But I did have a bit of a crush on you when I was a teenager.” He pauses. “God, why am I telling you this? I’m just making things worse for myself,” he shakes his head, resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. “If this is what hanging out with celebrities does for me, I’m not sure I’m cut out for it. You’re making me make a complete arse out of myself.” Even if he couldn’t exactly blame Liam for that.

Liam laughs. “It’s cute, actually,” he says, and Zayn does hide his head in his hands then. Not for long though, because Liam reaches out for him and tugs his hands away, and Zayn is extremely aware of the fact that _Liam Payne just touched him_ and his teenage self wants to promise to never wash his hands again, but he’s an adult now, and fangirling over someone is not going to be cute for long. He’s not sure what Liam is looking for in these dates, but if he _is_ looking for a relationship and not just a cute PR moment that will be used as the lead up for another single or album, then he’s not going to want to date someone who can’t separate Liam Payne, famous boybander, from Liam, twenty three year old guy. For as much as Zayn is aware of that though, it’s hard to shake the slight intimidation. Even when Liam is giving him no reason to feel intimidated. “You’re burning the naan though.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Zayn kind of wants to give up on this whole night. Order in a pizza and see if Liam would still stick around if they were sat on the couch in jogging pants and an old faded tee. Instead he tosses out the naan, only barely managing not to burn himself with the hot oil. “I swear I’m a better cook than this.” He mutters, more to himself than to Liam, but Liam still chuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, like this is on him somehow. “I’m distracting you. I can go back into the dining room, if you’d rather.” He sounds so sweet and sincere, and Zayn wonders if he could ask for a hug, because Liam’s always looked like he gives the best hugs, but he has to remember that he doesn’t _know_ him, for as much as it feels like he does. 

“No, it’s okay,” he manages to smile back, tries not to let it shake his confidence too much. “I’ve still got seven more chances to get it right. I _will_ prove to you that I’m not a complete disaster in the kitchen.”

*

Zayn might not be a complete disaster in the kitchen, but he’s a complete disaster in the rest of his life. Even though the rest of the naan come out perfectly, and the butter chicken could rival that of his mum, he still manages to make a complete arse of himself. 

It starts off so good too. Liam seems honestly surprised (which, _rude_ ) at the food Zayn has managed to come out with, and his compliments are so lovely and sincere that even though Zayn is blushing, he’s also the most relaxed he’s been all evening.

So much so that when Liam tells him a story about something that had happened on tour once - some fan bringing over a marriage certificate, trying to get Liam to sign it - that Zayn absently replies with “That’s when you were dating Sophia, right?”

It’s not anything _big_ , but Liam still arches an eyebrow, and Zayn realises that he’s not just brought up an ex at a completely inappropriate moment, but that he’s also made it completely obvious that he knows far more than he should about Liam’s private life. Because Sophia wasn’t common knowledge. Boybanders weren’t supposed to have girlfriends, so to the public eye, Liam had been single. But it had been pretty obvious if you were in the fandom, and Zayn’s just pretty much outed himself as a complete fanboy. 

The one good thing about this situation is that Liam has spoken up about their relationship afterwards, so even though he’s never specified exactly when he was dating her, it’s not like Zayn aired some secret to the entire world. Still. “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was completely inappropriate.”

Liam’s smile is mild, but Zayn can tell that he’s a bit taken aback, and he can’t blame him. It must be weird, going on a date with someone who already knows so much about you. He’s not sure he’d like it much if the roles were reversed. “It’s alright,” Liam says, but Zayn can’t help the feeling that he’s a bit more on edge now, like the media training has kicked back in and he’s not necessarily withdrawn but a little more careful in the way he expresses himself. Like a part of him isn’t just Liam anymore, but Liam Payne, celebrity. It sort of makes Zayn want to cry. 

The thing is. He is trying. But it’s hard to forget that he knows so much about Liam already, and he can’t fully separate the person having dinner with him from the boy in the magazines and on posters. He feels like he knows him, when he doesn’t, when he can’t even be sure that half the things that he’s said in interviews are true. It makes him wonder if Liam feels like this all the time, if he worries that people are only interested in the public version of him. Zayn sort of wants to tell him that he’s not, that he wants to know those private things, but with his admission of being a bit of a fanboy in the past he can’t blame Liam for not wanting to share any of that. He might think Zayn is just trying to chase clout, even if that’s not the kind of person he is or ever wants to be.

“No, I’m truly sorry,” he says softly. “It’s just - I know that I don’t know you, but I’ve followed your career since the start, and I just - I don’t know. Sometimes, back in the day, I felt like we could’ve been friends, if the circumstances were different. I used to sort of wish we’d be friends, actually, because you seemed so confident and like you just knew what you wanted and went for it, and I always admired that. But I’m well aware that I don’t know _you_. I just know the image that’s been put out.” He swallows. “But I’d like to. I’d like to get to know you, and not whatever your management wanted to make us believe you were.” He gives him a tentative smile. “But I completely get it, if this is weird, and if you don’t want to get to know me.” It’s hard, to force himself to stand up, but he manages, collecting the dirty plates and taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’m just going to get dessert, alright?”

Liam makes no move to follow him into the kitchen this time, and Zayn tries his best to pretend it doesn’t hurt.

*

Zayn isn’t even surprised anymore when his chocolate lava cakes come out completely solid, as opposed to the soft centre that he’s prided himself on. He should have known, really. With everything that had been going wrong tonight, he really should have known that he couldn’t catch a break. 

At least his ice cream is solid, and the raspberry coulis came out nice too. It’s a contrast to the way his hand is now wrapped up in a wet rag, because _of course_ he burnt himself trying to get dessert out of the oven, that’s just the kind of night that this is.

Liam didn’t follow him into the kitchen, but neither did the cameras, and Zayn can’t help but wonder what Liam had told them. He wonders just how long he’ll have to wait to hear how badly he fucked things up tonight. 

It’ll probably be clear enough at the end of the week, when he’s getting a ready meal for one rather than the second date. 

“I’m sorry about the cake,” he offers quietly, as he puts the carefully arranged plate in front of Liam. “It’s been in the oven for a minute or so too long, so it’s not chocolate lava cake, but just chocolate cake.” He’d explain to him that it’s a delicate balance between undercooking it and overcooking it, but he’s not sure he even has the energy to try. 

He knows that this isn’t fair to Liam. That the way he withdraws is a problem that he needs to work on. That getting into his own head like this will not exactly make things better, but it’s hard not to, when he’s inadvertently hurt someone he’s looked up to for so long. 

“It’s alright,” Liam says, and he’s truly everything good and sweet in this world, because he smiles at Zayn like nothing’s happened and Zayn hasn’t just made everything awkward. “I love chocolate, so, I’m happy either way.” He frowns, then gestures towards Zayn’s hand. “What happened? Did you get hurt?”

Zayn flushes. “I wasn’t paying attention,” he admits. “I mean, I was, but, I was paying attention to the wrong things. I’m not that good at multitasking, apparently.”

Liam’s chuckle is soft. “That sounds familiar,” he says, and Zayn watches as Liam’s hand gets closer, reaching for him. It’s an interesting almost out of body sort of experience, where it takes a moment before he can even feel Liam’s fingertips on his skin. “Let me see?”

It’s an odd request, sort of. “I’m okay, promise.”

Liam glances up at him, and something in his expression makes Zayn sort of breathless. “Zayn,” he says, and Zayn can’t help but be acutely aware of the fact that this is the first time Liam’s said his name, and how incredibly natural it sounds to have him say it. He’d have given anything for Liam to say his name back when he was a teenager and front row at his concerts, but this is different. This is Liam saying his name, Liam who is his age and navigating a new world in which he’s recently come out of the closet. Liam who isn’t a popstar but just a boy, possibly on his first ever date with another boy. 

(Zayn’s brain can’t help but bring up images of Notting Hill. _The fame thing isn’t really real, you know. And don’t forget, I’m also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her._ But that’s movies. Not real life. Not _his_ real life, at least.)

“Okay,” he says quietly, letting Liam unwrap the rag from his hand, wincing a bit at the slightly raised skin, the white and red contrasting against his skin tone. “It’s highly unfair, by the way,” he murmurs, and Liam raises an eyebrow. “The puppy dog eyes. I can’t be the first person who’s ever told you that they’re lethal. How am I supposed to say no when you look at me like that?”

Liam chuckles, and Zayn inexplicably finds the corners of his mouth tugging up as well. “I haven’t actually been told that before,” Liam says, so very careful in the way he wraps the wet rag back around Zayn’s hand. “But that’s good to know.” He has the audacity to look up at him again, and actually _wink_. Zayn isn’t sure he’s even breathing. “Promise not to use my powers for evil.”

It’s such a dumb, cheesy thing to say, but Zayn still melts a little.

Things feel a little bit easier after that. Some of the apprehension has faded, from both sides, and they fall back into conversation. Zayn eagerly jumps on the topic of superheroes, and as they eat their dessert - even though the chocolate cake had set it was thankfully still delicious, and Liam cleans off his plate entirely - they discuss their favorite films, the fictional people they’d looked up to. Safe topics. Superficial topics that steer clear of anything personal. But at least it’s something.

There’s a brief debate about Superman versus Batman, and the actual Batman v Superman movie, but although they disagree on some things the debate never gets heated, and Zayn’s almost sure Liam’s teasing him once or twice. 

He feeds him ice cream too, when Zayn’s struggling a bit to use his hand, the skin throbbing and in need of medical attention Zayn can’t really give it right now. It’s adorable, and sweet, and Zayn has been through an absolute rollercoaster of emotions tonight, but he’s not sure if he’d not do it all over again just for the little moments like this. Liam smiling, eyes nearly closed and his teeth all on show, nearly putting the ice cream up Zayn’s nose rather than his mouth because Zayn bent down while the spoon went up. His laugh, loud and guffawing and _real_ , something that he will tuck away in his brain and cherish forever. 

He’s made an absolute fool of himself, but he’s also made Liam laugh, so really, it could’ve been a lot worse.

It feels like almost too soon when the night comes to an end, and Zayn has to say goodbye to Liam, knowing he’s probably not going to see him again. He feels his heart ache but doesn’t show it, just thanks Liam for the wonderful evening, relishes the brief one armed hug he’s given before Liam says his goodbyes. 

He’s not sure whether to tell him to have fun on his next dates, because even though Zayn’s pretty sure that Liam’s not going to end up picking him, there’s still a part of him that’s foolishly hopeful, that wants the other dates to suck just so he gets a chance to redeem himself. But then he does want Liam to have a great time, because Liam’s sweet enough to deserve it.

In the end, he just waves him off, watches as the camera crew follows Liam outside, promising him they’ll be right back to wrap up the evening, do the little debrief that happens afterwards, where Zayn gets to rate the date and give his final thoughts. Zayn just nods at them, leaves the front door open as he heads into the kitchen to start on the cleanup. 

By which he means, text Louis.

_Zayn: well that was about the most mortifying experience of my whole life. Thanks Lou._

He’s not sure if he’s even allowed to tell Louis about what happened, thinks that maybe he’ll be asked to sign an NDA after this, considering who Liam is. He’s not sure if he’s not already breaking the contract that he was asked to sign before appearing on the show, but he knows Louis, trusts him not to tell a soul about what had happened. Not even Harry. And he needs the confidence his best friend seems to have in spades and is always willing to share. 

_Louis: what happened?! Was he an ass in real life?? Facetime me??_

_Zayn: can’t, still gotta film the debrief. He was absolutely lovely, I just made a fool of myself. Pretty sure he thinks I’m a stalker now. A stalker who can’t cook. I think I might change my name and move to someplace where they don’t have TVs._

_Louis: want me to come over? You sound like you need a good cuddle._

Zayn _does_ need a good cuddle. But it’s ten p.m. and he knows Louis has work in the morning. And he thinks what he needs more than a good cuddle is probably a good night’s sleep. Even if that puts the present firmly in the past, and signifies that his brief encounter with Liam is officially over. He knows that whatever he’s feeling right now, the way his head is reeling, is going to feel less intense in the morning. Fatigue always put everything on high intensity, and come the next day he would probably cherish this once in a lifetime experience, and be grateful for tonight, regardless of the outcome.

_Zayn: i’m ok. Gonna go clean up, do the debrief, then go to bed. Let’s make plans on friday though? Pretty sure i’m not gonna get picked, so i’d like to have something to do_

_Louis: ‘course. Sorry that things ended up like this_

_Louis: and that I pushed you._

_Zayn: it’s okay. I got to meet Liam Payne. That’s still pretty special. Love you x_

He’s just pocketed his phone when the camera crew comes back in, and Zayn might be seeing things but he thinks the smile on the girl’s face is sort of sympathetic, which probably means that Liam’s said some less than great things about their date. He absently wipes the counter, puts plates in the dishwasher, letting them film him going through the motions before they direct him towards his bedroom, where he is told to quickly change into his loungewear so they can film the last segment of the night. 

He complies, changing into joggers and a faded tee, sitting down on his bed with a pillow in his lap, looking cozy and comfortable even if he doesn’t quite feel that way yet. 

“So, Zayn,” the girl starts, “thoughts on tonight? On Liam?”

Zayn drags a hand through his hair, breathes in deeply, holding the air in his lungs for a moment. “Well, I was a bit shocked, obviously, when I recognized him.” He resists the urge to make a face, though only barely. “Kind of got a bit frazzled, which didn’t help with the food. I think this might’ve been the worst meals I’ve cooked in my life, aside from the main. Liam was completely lovely about it, which was sweet.” Liam really had been sweet. Nothing of the stuck up attitude that Zayn had heard so much about when it came to celebrities. “I don’t think he’s gonna pick me though. I mean, after I’d pretty much admitted to being a fanboy - well, he’s going to want to date someone that’s interested in _him_ , right? And I can see why he’d worry about that with me.” He swallows. “I wouldn’t blame him, for sending me a ready meal on Friday.”

“But you’d be disappointed?”

Zayn bites his lip, knows that he’s blushing a bit. “When I take out the whole celebrity factor, I reckon we got on. We seem to like the same kind of things. He’s obviously well fit, and exactly my type. So, yeah, I’d be a little disappointed.” He tries to smile. “But I’d also be grateful, because how many people can say that they got to spend an evening with someone they used to be a massive fan of? It’s something I’m never going to forget, and for all the ways that I’ve embarrassed myself today, I wouldn’t have wanted to miss it.” 

The girl nods, smiles at him in that sympathetic way again, and Zayn’s stomach churns a bit in protest. He desperately wants to ask her what Liam said, but he knows that he won’t find out until much later, when the sting of rejection has long faded and the episode will be aired on TV. “So if you had to rate him? Three stars being the absolute best-”

“Three stars, definitely.” Zayn says quickly, not even giving himself time to think. “I’d love to see him again. Yeah.”

He gets another smile from her. “Alright, well, thank you very much, and we wish you the best of luck.” She makes a motion towards the camera men, who lower their cameras, immediately making Zayn feel like he’s able to breathe again, despite the fact that there are still so many people in his bedroom. “We’ll be back on Friday to set everything up. Film you getting ready, do a little bit of a recap of your date, then film the results.” She tells him, and Zayn just nods, hugs the pillow closer to his chest. The girl hesitates for a moment. “Don’t worry too much about it, yeah? I’ve been working on this show for a few years now. Even if you don’t get picked, it doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with you. It just means that Liam had a stronger connection with someone else. It’s not personal.”

Zayn isn’t sure exactly how it isn’t personal when this whole evening was about getting to know each other, but he appreciates her advice. Even if it drives home the point that there was no way Liam was ever going to pick him. Why else would she give him a clear consolation talk? “Thanks.” He smiles, rubs at his face again. “At least it’ll make for a good story, right? And some good TV, I hope.”

She hums. “It did. You work well on camera. And you seem like a really genuine and nice person.” She unhooks her earpiece, putting it in her pocket. “Liam could do a lot worse. Yeah, you were a little awkward, but I mean, you’ve probably not met many celebrities before. I remember the first time I ran into someone I used to be a fan of. Trust me, you were absolutely fine in comparison. I was just lucky that my encounter wasn’t filmed.” She gives him another smile. “Get some sleep, alright? We’ll see you on Friday.”

Friday. At least Zayn only has to wait three more days to find out what Liam truly thinks of him. 

*

The idea that Liam is on a date with someone else _right now_ is kind of weird, Zayn finds when it’s dinner time on Wednesday. He can’t help but wonder. Do they know who he is? Are they making him laugh the way Zayn had? Do their conversations flow, do they discuss things that Liam hadn’t discussed with Zayn?

Are they talking about him? He knows that sounds conceited, but, are they? Is Liam telling them all about his previous date? 

Thank God for Louis, honestly. Despite Zayn never facetiming him, Louis had taken it upon himself to simply show up, takeout in hand ‘because he figured Zayn might need a break from cooking’. Zayn isn’t sure if he’s just worried about being poisoned too, but he knows that if he sounds any sort of self deprecating right now, Louis will pin him to the couch and wrap him up in a hug so tight that Zayn won’t be able to breathe. The prospect is rather nice, but Zayn’s kind of done with feeling sorry for himself, at least outwardly, so he’d rather just play some video games and eat good food. Louis’ toes, tucked under his thighs, are a welcome physical comfort though.

They don’t talk about it. Zayn thinks he might prefer it that way. 

Or he thinks he does, until it’s ten p.m. and Louis is about to leave, and suddenly Zayn is having a flashback of Liam leaving last night, and he holds Louis a little tighter. “I wish I could do it all over again,” he confesses to Louis’ shoulder, his face pressed against denim. “Or, I don’t know. I hate the thought that Liam knows me now, and that he thinks I’m weird, or creepy. It was much better when he had no idea who I was.” When Zayn hadn’t disappointed him, when Liam had meant so much to him in the past. 

Louis rubs his back. “But you don’t know that he does,” he says softly, and Zayn loves and hates when Louis is the voice of reason. Louis doesn’t sugarcoat things, but he’s never needlessly cruel either, nor will he let Zayn’s head get the best of him when it comes to being negative. “I know what your head tells you, and I know that I wasn’t there last night and that all your worst thoughts might be accurate, but, could it also be that you’re making things a little bit worse than they actually were?” 

Zayn thinks about it. Tries to not cringe at all the things that had gone wrong, that he’d _done_ wrong, and just focus on what had happened. Not the sympathetic smile the girl had given him last night, or the way Liam had gotten quiet and Zayn had felt like he’d inadvertently offended him. But just the facts. “He did hug me, as he left last night.” He says timidly. “And he laughed, and tried to feed me ice cream.” Those were all things that had happened _after_ the sudden awkwardness of the conversation too.

“There you go,” Louis encourages. “Listen, he might not pick you. And he might not pick you because of all those things that you worried about doing wrong. But maybe he doesn’t pick you because he’s got more of a connection with someone else. And that’s _okay_. That doesn’t mean that you’re weird, or crazy, or even that Liam thinks that there’s something wrong with you. Unless you watch the episode and he flat out tells the camera, you might never know what he thought or felt about last night. And from what you’ve told me about him, he’s never been cruel. I’m sure that even though things felt awkward last night, he understands what it’s like to be in your shoes. It’s not a capital offense, Zaynie.”

Zayn pouts a little bit. “I just don’t want to have hurt him.”

Louis smiles at that. “I know, babes. But like you said, he fed you ice cream, he hugged you as he left. I think you’re good. Even if he doesn’t pick you. He’s not going to hate you. No one could.”

Zayn is sure that that’s not true, but he still appreciates it. 

*

Thursday is a little easier. Zayn doesn’t replay the entire date with Liam in his head, doesn’t scrutinize every little thing he’d done wrong. His anxiety likes to remind him of his flaws, likes to punish himself for every small moment where he was less than perfect, but he knows that Louis is right. Nothing that had happened had been a capital offense. 

Still. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, just to be disappointed. It’s easier to expect the ready meal for one, than to even contemplate what it would be like if Liam ended up on his doorstep tomorrow.

*

Friday arrives, and with it the reappearance of Zayn’s nerves. Not that they’ve ever fully left, but Zayn had made peace with the outcome, or so he’d thought. Now though, he’s shaking as he’s getting dressed, the camera crew filming him as he’s doing his hair. 

Luckily, it’s the same crew from Tuesday, the same girl, whose name Zayn’s heard at least three times but still can’t quite remember at this moment. She’d hugged him as he’d opened the door, and even though it had felt a little strange, hugging someone he barely knew, it had still been so appreciated. 

“So, Zayn,” she says, as he’s trying to fluff up his hair the perfect amount, “remind us what you thought of Liam, and your date.”

Zayn had known that this was coming, but he’s still floundering for a moment, his fingers stilling in his hair. “Um,” he says, then grimaces at his reflection. “Liam. Good guy. I really enjoyed our date. There’s a lot of things that could’ve gone a lot better, but in hindsight, it wasn’t all as terrible as I’d made it out to be. I mean, when are first dates _not_ awkward, you know?” He’s not sure it would’ve gone any better if Liam had been an ordinary guy, or if he’d been cooking for another celebrity. “I’d love a chance to show him that I can actually cook, and that even if I was a little intimidated by him, I’m still someone that wants to get to know him for who he is, and not for his lifestyle. I don’t know if he feels the same way, but, I’d love to have him show up on my doorstep tonight, for sure.”

“And if he doesn’t pick you?”

He knows that she needs to ask him, even without the smile she gives him from behind the camera. “Um, well, if he doesn’t, then, I guess that means that he’s had a better connection with someone else. Which, I’d be happy for him. Disappointed, definitely, but, he’s a nice guy. He deserves someone that he is genuinely excited about. So if he picks someone else, then, I wish them the best of luck, and I hope that they’ll have a great time tonight.”

The girl nods. “And you? What are your plans for tonight, if you open the door to reveal that ready made meal?”

Zayn shrugs a shoulder. “I’d hope it’s something good, that I’ll enjoy eating. And after I’ve had dinner, I’ll meet up with my best mate at a pub, have a drink, hang out for a bit. Either way, I should have a good night.”

“That’s great.” The girl smiles, motions towards the cameras, that are being cut off. “Alright, it’ll be about ten minutes until the doorbell rings. I’d like you to stay in the dining room, just so you can’t look out of any windows and we’ll get your genuine reaction the moment you open the door. We’ll have someone inside, filming you, and there’s another crew outside. You know the drill, don’t make any eye contact with the camera, unless we ask you to. If it’s a ready meal for one, take it inside, we’ll film you heating it up, taking a couple of bites, get a quick reaction from you about your feelings. If it’s Liam, we’re going to be with you in the car, the restaurant, but you’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other outside of the cameras too.” She smiles. “Either way, we’ll check in in about a month from now, see where you’re at with your life. You know, the little notifications at the end of the show. We won’t need to stop by for that, you can just reply to the email or call when you get it.”

Zayn feels a nervous tickle in his stomach, his legs resembling jelly when he walks down the stairs and into his dining room. There’s a camera trained on his face, but all he has eyes for is the clock, that is counting down the minutes at a pace that feels absolutely glacial. 

Even with his eyes trained on the clock, he still jumps when the doorbell rings, and he needs a moment, rubs his hands on his pants to get rid of the slightly sweaty layer on his skin. _Breathe_ , he tells himself, as he pushes himself up from the chair, his knees feeling weak and his stomach doing somersaults. He just needs to breathe, and it’ll all be okay. He just hopes he won’t look too disappointed when he opens the door to reveal the tray with his dinner.

There’s a visual countdown he can just about see from the corner of his eyes, and he waits for the girl to have finished counting down before putting his hand on the doorknob, taking one deep, final breath before opening the door.

“Hi Zayn.”

“Liam.” It’s breathless, and Zayn physically needs the door to hold him up, his fingers digging into the painted wood as he watches the way Liam smiles at him; has to resist the urge to pinch himself, because the churning in his stomach tells him that this can’t be a dream no matter how unlikely it is to be reality. “Hi.”

“Wasn’t expecting me?” Liam asks, and Zayn can only shake his head. “I hope it’s a good surprise?”

Zayn swallows. Nods, perhaps a bit more aggressively than he should have, because he can see the way Liam’s eyes crinkle. “Yeah.” He manages, his voice still a little breathless, but steadier. “Um, yeah, definitely.”

“I was hoping you’d like to go out to dinner with me.” Liam says, and Zayn finds himself pinching the skin on his thigh after all, hoping that the camera doesn’t pick it up. “I brought you some gifts, too, in case I needed to sway your decision.”

As if there was a universe in which Zayn _wouldn’t_ jump on the chance to go out to dinner with Liam. “No, I’m, I’m in.” He even manages a smile this time, and he’s no longer holding onto the doorway. Which is good, because Liam hands him his gifts, and for a moment, Zayn just _scowls_.

Because Liam’s brought him a first aid kit, and a cookbook.

A _cooking for dummies_ cookbook.

His smile comes out more like a grimace, and Liam’s face falls. “I’m sorry,” he says, giving Zayn those terrible puppy dog eyes again. “I thought it was a fun joke. You know. Haha.”

He sounds so awkward that it’s endearing, and Zayn is suddenly reminded of something he’s learned in therapy. Of just how much more forgiving we are of other people’s flaws as opposed to our own. Case in point. Liam looks awkward, and Zayn doesn’t feel frustrated or upset or even angry. He just finds it adorable, even if Liam’s joke fell flat. “I swear I’m a better cook than what you saw on Tuesday,” he mumbles, but he manages a real smile for Liam this time. “Maybe I can show you sometime.”

Liam smiles back. “I’d like that.”

*

They’re in the restaurant, a cameraman at a nearby table filming them, and Zayn feels emboldened enough by the fact that he’s on a date with Liam, a _second_ date with Liam, that he asks. “So, why’d you pick me?”

Liam bites down on his bottom lip, really giving it a proper thought, and Zayn wonders if he knows just how good he looks. Not just right now, with those perfect teeth on show and his hair done up in a simple but elaborate quiff. But in general. He sort of wants to tell him, but he sort of wants to hear Liam’s reasoning more, so he stays quiet, smiling at him when Liam’s eyes meet his. “Well, I liked what you said, on our date. That you’d like to get to know me. The real me, not the version that you’ve seen in magazines or on the red carpet. Remember?” 

Zayn remembers. He also remembers nearly running away from their date at that point, because he was sure he’d fucked up. 

“I’m used to people knowing who I am, or thinking that they do, at least. And it did throw me off a little bit, that you knew who I was and that you’d followed my career. But then I went on the other two dates, and they both did too, and I guess it sort of reminded me that this is something that I am just going to have to deal with. And that it doesn’t have to stand in the way of something real.” Liam explains. “The other two dates were lovely, they were both nice guys, and the food was alright too, but, I don’t know. I just feel like I had more of a connection with you. When I was sitting at home today, thinking about who to pick, I found that I was just genuinely excited about the thought of seeing you again. Because you made me laugh, and you were _real_ with me. You didn’t pretend to be perfect, or tried to say all the right things, and that’s, it made me feel like you genuinely wanted me to pick you, and not just so you could say you won.”

Zayn nods. “I did,” he says, and his voice comes out more as a whisper. “In part because I felt like I messed up and I wanted a second chance to prove to you that I’m not just some hopeless weirdo,” he manages to make it sound mild, teasing at himself, because now that Liam’s here, now that Liam’s _picked him_ it’s hard to really be annoyed at himself for all the things he’d messed up. Not when Liam picked him _because_ of them. “But also because, like you said, I thought we had some kind of connection. Like, if you hadn’t been famous and everything would’ve happened the exact same way as it did on Tuesday, I’d still be just as excited to be here in the restaurant with you right now. Because you’re fit, and funny, and you’re just as much of a geek as I am when it comes to superheroes, and maybe that’s not the kind of stuff that you can build a relationship on, but it’s at least enough to want to see where this goes.”

Liam smiles at him, and raises his glass. “To the future then,” he says, and promptly makes a face at himself. “Wow, that sounded pompous. You’d think I’d be better with speeches and toasts and all, considering the amount of talking I’ve had to do on camera.” He glances briefly at the cameraman, then turns his full attention on Zayn, who can’t help but blush a little bit at the warm expression in Liam’s gaze. “To seeing where this goes. How’s that?”

“Better.” Zayn smiles back, raising his own glass, letting it clink gently against Liam’s. “To seeing where this goes.”

*

The episode airs two months later, a couple of days before Christmas. 

As embarrassed as Zayn knows he’ll inevitably be when he watches it back, he still settles in on the couch, a blanket over his lap and a cup of tea on the little table by the armrest. He’s been sent a copy, but this is the first time he’s going to get to watch it all back.

The first time he gets to see how nervous Liam is, on the way to his place. How styled his hair had been before he’d gotten in the car, only to fall into that artfully tousled hairdo that he’d seen on him when he’d opened the door. He watches himself get ready for the date, surprised at the fact that he doesn’t completely want to cringe at seeing himself on camera. 

Well, not right at the start, anyway. It gets worse the further he gets into the date, and he can’t help but laugh at himself, hiding his face in his hands. “Fuck, I was a disaster. I can’t believe that you picked me.” 

There are soft lips pressed to his cheek, his hands gently peeled away from his face by the boy whose head is in Zayn’s lap, the boy whose face is smiling up at Zayn with such an adoring expression that it still takes his breath away even two months in. “A beautiful disaster,” Liam says, and it’s so fucking corny and yet Zayn still can’t help but smile.

“That isn’t much better,” he teases, but when Liam just sticks his tongue out in response, Zayn can’t think of anything better to do than to lean forward and press their lips together. It practically requires folding himself in half, but the way Liam’s hand instinctively comes up to rest at the back of his neck, fingers playing with the soft hairs there, makes it more than worth it. 

“Seriously though,” Liam whispers, shifting to sit up, his arm now wrapped around Zayn’s shoulders as Zayn automatically shifts the blanket to cover both of their legs. “Cutest boy I’d ever seen. I was so glad that you were just as terrible as me.”

Zayn just gives him a look, but as the episode progresses and they get to the point where Liam has to evaluate his date on camera he finds that for as much as he’d thought he’d fucked it up, Liam had had nothing but lovely things to say about him. Things that make Zayn blush, because he definitely hadn’t felt like that after that first disastrous date.

They’ve more than made up for it since though. He knows that the little blurb at the end of the episode won’t show how far they’ve come - by the time they’d had to send it in they’d only been texting, trying to find a day that worked for both of them - but for the past two months they’ve seen quite a lot of each other. In secret, at first because they wanted to see if this thing between them could work without the added pressure of being in the public eye, and then later on because they were both sappy enough to want to go public after the episode aired. 

The thought of confirming his relationship (his _relationship_ , holy fuck, he’s not just dating Liam Payne but he’s in an actual relationship with him) gives him nervous butterflies, but he’s ready too. To show the world that Liam’s his, and he is Liam’s. 

Resting his head against Liam’s shoulder, he watches as Liam goes on the two other dates, his stomach now churning unpleasantly even though he knows that this was over two months ago, that even back then he had nothing to fear. Still. Liam’s nice with them, laughing the way he laughed with Zayn, clearly having a good time. It’s clear on his face, the slight stab of jealousy, because Liam chuckles, fingers ghosting over Zayn’s jaw. “You alright there?” He teases, and Zayn apparently needed the physical reminder in order to unclench his jaw. 

He shifts, pressing his face against Liam’s bicep, pushing a kiss onto his skin. “Do you ever regret picking me?” He knows it sounds ridiculous. He also knows that Liam will humour him. They’ve come so far in these past months, getting to know one another on a level that Zayn isn’t accustomed to in the first few months of dating someone. But then he’d already known quite a bit about Liam, and Liam had been an open book from the first day. Zayn had found it surprisingly easy to return that honesty, and as such, they’ve had long conversations about anxiety, the way that Zayn’s brain can sometimes trick him and he’ll need some reassurance even when he has no doubts about their feelings for each other. 

Liam cups his cheeks, letting Zayn see the love and affection in his eyes, the way that he smiles that Zayn _knows_ is just for him. “Not for a second,” Liam tells him, and Zayn knows that but he still feels a bit misty eyed at hearing it. “These past two months, getting to know you, it’s been some of the happiest times of my life.”

Zayn makes a face. “You’re literally a popstar.”

Liam just smiles. “Exactly.”

*

The selfie Liam posts right after the episode finishes airing gets a million retweets within half an hour. There’s at least five worldwide trends about them, a dozen articles that recap the episode and show pictures that Liam and Zayn had painstakingly selected from the pap shots Liam’s manager had arranged for them a couple of days ago. 

Zayn’s Twitter and Instagram account _explode_ , and his old Tumblr - that Zayn had backed up but then deleted because even if he was alright with Liam knowing just how much of a fanboy he’d been he didn’t need the rest of the world to know that too - gets flooded with messages from old mutuals who are at once jealous and excited for him. 

Zayn turns off the notification after only a few minutes, gestures towards Liam with his phone. “Is it always like that?”

Liam grins. “Pretty much.” He admits. “You’re not the _only_ fanboy in my life, babe,” he teases, and Zayn makes an indignant noise, reaches out, flicking his cheek with his finger. 

“I hate you.” He murmurs, and Liam just grins wider. 

“You love me,” he says, and even though Zayn’s not said it yet, he finds a warmth flooding his body, finds Liam looking at him, half parts worried that he’s said too much (Zayn’s not the only one who struggles with the occasional anxiety), and half parts accepting, possibly even _wanting_. Daring Zayn, almost, to say that he doesn’t.

He shakes his head, shifts, to straddle Liam and tickle his sides, knowing that Liam hates it and also knowing that Liam loves it when Zayn pins him to the couch. Those are things that no amount of following him in the past could have prepared him for. Those are things that tell Zayn that he knows _Liam_ , not just the image he puts out into the world. 

He cups his face, fingers soft as they stroke Liam’s skin. “Unfortunately,” he says, sounding braver than he feels, but the look in Liam’s eyes makes everything worth it. “Yeah,” he says, softer now. “I do.”

Liam smiles at him, the way that he does. The way that never fails to make Zayn’s heart jump. “Good,” he whispers back, covering Zayn’s hand on his cheek with his own. “Because I love you too.”

As Zayn leans in to kiss him, he thinks back on how all of this started. How Louis had, once again, encouraged him to take a leap of faith. How Zayn had been so sure that this would end in complete disaster.

He’d been wrong. Louis had been right.

So even though this was all still definitely Louis’ fault, Zayn thinks he might just have to forgive his best friend after all.

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, please give it a kudo or a comment or come talk to me about it on my [Tumblr](https://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/).  
> Please also consider reblogging the [fic post](https://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/post/624810487488643072/its-a-long-shot-just-to-beat-these-odds-ziam), and reading the other works in this collection!


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